Wednesday, July 9, 2008

So I was walking down the street today. I came across a dog. The dog was ugly, and it smelled a bit. I decided that I wanted to kick that motherfucking dog. I was going to kick the shit out of it. It hadn't done anything to me, but I still wanted to see it cry.

So I drew back my foot and kicked that damn dog. It yelped, and then made to run away. Someone else had already had my bright idea, because the dog's leg was broken, and by the festering look of it, had been for some time. So I shifted by weight and prepared for another kick, pleased that my prey could not escape.

Before my Converse could connect with the matted side of the mongrel, a police officer came out of nowhere. He whipped out his pad of ticket paper and prepared to levy me a heavy fine for animal abuse. As he asked my name and other vital statistics such as the middle name of the brother of the person I lost my virginity to, I could see the hate in his eyes. He shook his head every so often, as if my mere existence necessitated a random negation when his questioning would pause.

"Wait, officer!" I exclaimed.

His pen paused, his mustache twitched (all men of the law should have commanding facial hair), and his eyes, squinted in the glare of the relentless Arizona sun, met mine. 'Make my day, motherfucker,' they said to me. I intended to deliver.

"I have a biological impetuous to kick dogs! It's an evolutionary tactic, you see."

Steely gaze narrowed further until his craggy face was bisected by the squint of his skeptical eyes.

"Really, uh, sir, it is!" I shifted, paused, and regained my composure as my posture shifted and my hands animated to punctuate my relentless intelligence. "You see, when we were all cave men, dogs used to carry off babies. I know this because I read it in a fancy university study. Or perhaps I didn't, or the study was flawed, but you and I know that dogs could, at one point, eaten babies. So it's hardwired into humanity, officer, this need to kick dogs. We know that they could turn feral on us in their hunger at any moment. Even though dogs today don't carry off babies or go feral in hunger, they used to. So men naturally have the urge to kick dogs. It's there right beside the genetic code that makes hair grow on my balls. I couldn't help myself, officer. I did it all for the evolutionary success of my species!"

Gasping, panting, my hands and pedantic cadence paused. Surely my oppressor knew of my futile struggle with evolution. I had to kick that dog. How could I be punished for the continuation of the species?

And then the officer shifted his stance, dropped his notepad to his side, drew back his foot, swept his gaze up my shocked face as his mouth twisted into a gleeful grin, and he kicked the dog.